The Token
by lefcadio
Summary: Mello meets L for the first time. Mistakes, jealously, and chocolate. Takes place after 'The Architect', but isn't really a sequel.


When it finally came to it, Mello was slightly unimpressed, and more than a little annoyed.

It was still early evening, so the light was faint and pink, flooding in through the window and casting strange, dark lilac shadows across the room. He frowned down at the worn wood of his desk, trying not to peer at the intruder out of the corner of his eye.

"You know, it's usually considered polite to _knock_." Mello didn't bother to keep the bite of irritation out of his voice, and leaned back in his chair casually, folding his arms and waiting.

"Ah... you're Mello, yes?"

The stranger had a pleasant, if slightly awkward way of speaking; polite, yet markedly thoughtful. But then, Mello supposed everything he did was probably being analysed , so it shouldn't really be much of a surprise.

"Yes." He knew he was being irrationally curt, but wasn't in the mood to care.

As far as Mello was concerned: this was L, the world-renowned detective they were all being trained to follow. A week ago, he would have been interested; curious; even _eager_ to talk to the man, but... it was hard to work up the enthusiasm when you couldn't shake the lingering feeling that you were the leftovers.

He wasn't blind, after all, no matter what they might think of him. Mello was well aware that L had now been at the orphanage for several days - and yet only this evening had he deigned to come and talk to him? He swung back on the chair legs moodily, and stabbed at the desk's surface with a pen, adding further injuries to the already scarred wood.

The worst thing, though, he thought bitterly - was the fact that L had gone to see Near first.

He should have expected it, he knows... but the idea of something never manages to hurt quite as much as the reality.

Mello wondered what he was supposed to do, and felt faintly uncomfortable. Despite his anger at being passed over in favour of Near again, the idea of offending L still didn't sit entirely well with him. It was probably childish, but --

"You're angry at me for the wrong reasons, you know." The soft voice sounded somewhat amused.

Mello jumped and instinctively glanced up, his startled eyes meeting L's for the first time. It was rather unnerving; though L gave off an air of eccentric absent-mindedness, there was an intensity to those dark eyes, Mello thought, that belied the image he tried to project. Well, _he_ wasn't taken in by it.

He tilted his head, trying to smirk defiantly under the uncomfortable pressure of L's gaze, "so why is it you think I'm angry at you?"

Mello watched as L seemed to pause to consider this for a moment; L shifted awkwardly, ill-fitting shoes clearly a distraction, and then a faint smile ghosted over his lips.

"Because you weren't my first priority." At those words, Mello flinched and felt the familiar resentment flare up. But - to actually hear _L_ say such things-- "and because you assumed that Near was."

"Wasn't he?" The retort was incensed and automatic, and Mello leaped to his feet, pen falling to the ground, fists clenched.

...but this was all wrong. The air was too warm and his room was a mess - and this wasn't how it was supposed to have gone at _all_. The way Mello had always imagined it was... well, calmer, for one thing. But whenever Near came into the equation, 'calm' was not really an emotion Mello encountered frequently.

But, L... Mello had always had the vague idea that perhaps L was different; special. Not as a detective - they'd all been told enough times about that, certainly - but as a person. That he'd be the one to notice him; to recognise that even if he wasn't as academically accomplished as Near, that he was... he was...

It was with a leaden feeling in his stomach that Mello realised he'd never managed to complete that thought.

Of course, regardless, now he berated himself for ever being so naïve - because yes, he'd seen them. Spied L talking to Near as though he were the most important person here. Had seen... had seen Near _hug_ L - something he could still barely believe, but which twisted him up inside; so much so he couldn't even bring himself to mock Near for it.

"No."

Mello blinked, and the world slowed as the simple word sank in. No? He wordlessly walked across to the bed and sat down, eventually looking back up at L.

"...so if I'm wrong, why is it that I _should_ be angry at you, then?" He spoke quietly, almost dully, still half-lost in thought. Mello wanted to believe that L wouldn't lie to him; wouldn't lie to any of them. He bowed his head a little, blond hair falling into his eyes, hands resting on his knees.

There was only a faint shuffling sound, and then the gentle sinking of the mattress as L joined him, clambering up. Could he trust him, really? He'd always assumed that he could, but now that it came to it...

L had not been what he'd expected - but from the moment that Mello had caught a glimpse of him, he'd known; it could be no-one else. He'd been right; Mello's instincts frequently were. Except, it seemed, on this occasion.

"Well..." L broke the growing silence, and Mello couldn't help but watch his feet; the toes that had curled automatically around the soft edge of the duvet. "Because I've not visited any of you before? Because you're given so little information about any of this?" Mello looked up, and watched as L bit his thumb and turned to face him, shrugging slightly. "There are a lot of reasons, Mello. But I can assure you that least important of all are any that involve Near."

...oh. Mello was starting to see it now; beginning to understand what it was that L was getting at.

"Can I trust you?" Because it _mattered_ what L thought, and because it mattered what L said.

"Can't you tell?" The dismissive answer was accompanied by a faint wry smile, and he saw L reach into his pocket to retrieve something. "You'd already decided, before we'd even spoken. And that--" Mello's eyes widened as L offered him the oblong, "--that natural trust in your emotions is one of your strengths, Mello. However... it's not enough."

"Not enough?" Mello echoed, still focused on what looked suspiciously like--

"No," L confirmed, "as I think you'll agree, especially regarding some of your... conclusions... about Near. Just... consider things more."

When L mentioned Near, there was that sinking feeling again - though only faintly, because Mello... knew that L was right.

"But this helps me think," L suddenly announced, and Mello was taken aback by how childish he looked, pushing something into his hands and then just watching, dark eyes wide and expectant.

Mello turned the bar over in his hands, and smiled for the first time that evening, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Chocolate?"

L nodded, "please do try it."

Something began to heal inside Mello, then; something he hadn't even realised had been broken.

"...thank you."

--------------------------------------

A short while after L had left, Mello remained, sitting alone in the center of his bed. The sun had long since set, and the only light in the room came from the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

He clutched the half-eaten bar of chocolate in his hands, hardly noticing that it was beginning to melt. He'd do as L had said; he refused to be a disappointment. And _this_ - this chocolate - it was more than just sweets; to Mello that much was clear.

It was L's discovery of Mello's strength, and his weakness; it was Mello's discovery of a distinctly human side of the legendary L.

It was a symbol of faith; a token representing L's belief that he could better himself... and Mello intended to do just that.


End file.
